by Jessie Cooke
“For?”
“For these people, Dax. The Head Hunters have a reputation for being one of the most violent clubs around. Their president over there thinks of himself as one of those Renaissance kings. When he’s pissed off at someone he just says, ‘Off with his head,’ and it’s done. From what I hear, Eddie Martini isn’t one to back down from a fight either. But this isn’t our fight.”
Dax looked around the bar again and back at Cody and said, “You think I’m doing anything for these people?”
“Gunner then?”
“Everything I do…everything I’ve done since this patch was put on my chest, Cody, it’s all been for my family. My club, our club, that’s my family. One thing that I’ve realized, though, is while we all preach respect and family, our kids keep getting lost in the shuffle. Symone was abused, Michael is sitting in county waiting to go to trial because he’s met with nothing but neglect in his life. You and Keller…Jesus, what happened to the two of you was happening right under my nose. Then there’s Gunner…this kid was raised by a teenage prostitute and then turned out onto the streets and exploited by the likes of Eddie Martini. My father was responsible for that. He knocked up a young girl and left her alone with a vest to give to his offspring. He knew what a shit life he was leaving that kid, and he did it anyway. Don’t you see that is what I’m willing to fight for? I don’t know these kids Eddie is exploiting. I don’t know where they came from. But I know that people walk past them on the street every day and do nothing for them and I don’t want to be one of those people. I can’t save them all, but I believe things happen for a reason and the reason Gunner was brought into my life…into all of our lives…was so I could help some of them.”
“Dax…what happened to me and Keller and Michael and Symone…none of that is your fault.”
“But it is, don’t you see? It’s everyone’s fault except for the kid who ends up losing in the end. Every one of us that turns a blind eye to it is condoning it.”
“But getting involved with this club and starting a war with a gangster…”
“Is my call,” Dax said. That statement served its purpose. It shut Cody down.
“What can I get y’all to drink?” The cute little bartender was at their table.
“I’ll have a draft beer and a shot of Jack,” Dax told her.
“I’ll have the same,” Cody said. Dax started to pull out his wallet, and she said:
“Oh, no. Prez says your money’s no good here. I’ll be right back with those drinks and some pretzels for y’all.” Cody watched the young woman’s pert ass as she walked away. When he looked back up, Swinger was at the edge of their table. Dax stood up so Cody followed suit.
“Finally I get the privilege of meeting the great Dax Marshall,” the older man said. He sounded sincere, but Cody thought he saw something dark in the other man’s eyes. Dax shook his hand and said:
“I can say the same about you, Swinger. I’ve been meaning to get out here and meet you for years now. The timing just hasn’t ever been right until now.”
Swinger shook Dax’s hand and then looked at Cody. He read his patch before putting out his hand. Cody shook it and said, “I’m Cody Miller, one of Dax’s sergeants at arms.”
“Let’s sit and talk,” Swinger said. Dax and Cody sat back down and Swinger took one of the empty seats. “I was out of town when all of this shit with Martini went down. My guys have filled me in, and I know what our motivation for taking Martini out of business is. We’ve been butting heads with him for years over territory. I’d like to hear your reasons.”
“I have two reasons. First off, he’s going to come after my guy Gunner and his friends.”
“And the other?”
“This pig exploits kids. I want it to stop.”
Swinger smiled. Something about the guy still rubbed Cody the wrong way. He wasn’t sure what it was. He was so average-looking. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin with a light dusting of stubble across it. He was barely six foot tall and maybe 180 pounds. He seemed to smile easily and so far, he’d been nothing but welcoming to them, but there was something about him that caused Cody’s soul to shiver. “Good enough. I say we go to ‘church’ and start making plans.”
Tamara finally had the house to herself…almost. Patty and Billy had gone back to open Patty’s bar with two prospects Tamara’s dad had insisted they take with them for protection. The guys were all at “church” tonight, undoubtedly planning their next move. Tamara always knew when something was up, but they never gave her any details. She was used to it and she was used to cleaning up the messes afterwards. It didn’t mean she liked it, just that it was her life, at least for now. Lately she’d been wondering if she should make some changes. She just hadn’t gotten that far yet.
Blue-Eyes was still in the house. He’d tried to go to “church” with them but Dax had insisted he stay behind and rest. He was moving around more during the day and Tamara could tell he was getting antsy, cooped up, but he tired easily and Tamara thought that Dax was right and a “church” meeting might be too much for him. “Church” was what the executive board called the meetings where everyone in the club was included. Everyone except for the women, of course. Sometimes she felt like she was living in an episode of I Love Lucy where the menfolk made the living and the little lady took care of the house. She was always an inch away from leaving it all behind, but it had a strange pull on her that she so far hadn’t been able to break free of.
Tonight however, she had her little house back to herself, almost, and she was going to enjoy it. She took a long leisurely bubble bath, pulled her hair into a wet ponytail when she was finished, and pulled on a pair of Dallas Cowboy shorts and a tank top. Then she went out to the kitchen to find something to eat. She flipped on the iPod before pulling open the fridge, and while she dug through it to find out what she wanted to eat, she danced to the beat of the music.
One good thing about the guys always showing up to eat at her house was that her father made sure the prospects always kept her well-stocked with groceries when they made a run for the club. She pulled out a package of turkey, mayonnaise, mustard, lettuce, and a jar of pickles and sat them on the counter. As she shut the refrigerator and reached for the bread on top, a song she liked came on and she started to sing. Her song came to an abrupt stop when she turned around and saw that Blue-Eyes was no longer sleeping.
Gunner was leaning into the doorframe dressed in a baggy pair of sweatpants she’d left in the room for him earlier that day. They were Tommy’s, and her brother was a big guy so they were hanging low on his hips…and damn, did those hips look yummy. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and for a second she couldn’t do anything but stare at the tight, lean muscles in his chest that worked their way down past a flat stomach and into a “V” at the front of the sweats. She finally realized she was staring, and embarrassed, she brought her eyes back up to his face. He had a smile playing at the edges of his sexy lips and even with the cuts and bruises on his face still healing, she thought he was fucking beautiful. That was a dangerous thought. Her dad and Tommy only left him alone with her on Dax’s assurances that she was “safe.” If she fucked him and they found out about it, they wouldn’t leave him so pretty. With a heavy sigh, she reached over and switched off the music. Folding her arms across her chest, she said, “What are you doing?”
“Just enjoying the show.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
“Sorry, but in my defense, I really wasn’t sneaking. You were just…preoccupied.”
He was looking at her in a way that made her veins feel like they were on fire, but she didn’t want him to know that. He was a wannabe biker and even without her father and Tommy’s interference, Tamara steered clear of bikers when it came to romance. She loved her family and her club but she never wanted to be anybody’s old lady. She’d watched it eat her mother alive and make her ugly and resentful inside in the end.
When Tommy and
Tamara were twelve years old, their mother left their father and the club. Tommy stayed with Dad and Tamara went with Mom. Their mother remarried an investment banker and their lives went from biker barbecues to society cotillions. Tamara hated it, and when she was fourteen she told her mother she wanted to go back and live in the clubhouse with her dad. She wasn’t cut out to be a princess or to date boys from the country club. Her mother wouldn’t hear of letting her go back and live there, so Tamara ran away. The first two times she showed up at the clubhouse her father loaded her up on his Harley and took her back home. The last thing he wanted around all those bikers was a fresh-faced, pubescent girl he had to watch every minute.
When Tamara was fifteen she showed up for a third time. When he tried to take her back, she told him that the next time she ran away she would find somewhere else to go. She was just headstrong enough that he didn’t doubt she was telling him the truth, so that time he talked her mother into letting her stay. She found out later that part of the deal he’d made with her mother included an all-girl private school in San Antonio. She had to admit that parent-teacher conferences were amusing. Her father drew everyone’s attention when he drove up in front of the school on his Harley, in his leather kutte and with his long hair and beard. The other girls mostly steered clear of her, and dating in high school was practically nonexistent.
Despite her father’s best efforts to raise her up as a lady, she found a way every chance she got to be a part of the club. She hung out with Stitch while he was patching the guys up. She learned how to work on motorcycles by following Ray around in the shop and when she was seventeen, she finally convinced Tommy to teach her how to ride a Harley. She had her own now and although she was without a patch and without a title, she was as much a member of the Head Hunters as any one of them.
“I was preoccupied in my own home, finally alone,” she said, sharply. She regretted it immediately. He looked hurt or embarrassed. This one didn’t have the thick skin that most men in her world had developed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough week.”
“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. This has got to be hard on you. I imagine you have a lot better things to do than play nursemaid to me and cook for a bunch of unruly bikers.”
Tamara sadly did not. She was finished with school and she didn’t have a job. With a sigh, she said, “Not really. You want a sandwich?”
“You don’t have to wait on me, I can fix it.”
“You’ll never make it as a biker with that attitude. Women are put on this earth to cook, clean, and fuck.” That last part had slipped out, and she turned her back to him to keep him from seeing her blush. She reached for the bread and pulled out two slices to busy herself as he said:
“I don’t know a lot about biker life, and I know I haven’t known you long, but it seems to me that you mean a lot more to these guys than that.”
She turned and looked at him. He smiled at her and her pulse sped up. “I’m lucky in that I was born the daughter of the vice president, otherwise I might just be another club girl. What do you want on your sandwich?”
13
Gunner sincerely doubted that whoever Tamara had been born to, she’d ever settle for simply being another club girl. He’d watched her closely over the past week. The men in the club loved her and she loved them, but they treated her with a different kind of respect than they did the other girls that came around. He didn’t believe it was just because she was the VP’s daughter.
She was smart and witty and there was just something about her that commanded a certain amount of respect. He watched her cook and wait on the MC guys, but he also saw how she took control when it came to his healthcare and how she didn’t take any shit off any of the guys, even her father and brother. On top of all of that she was gorgeous, and the healthier Gunner got the harder he found it to be so close without touching her.
She had her back to him as she made the sandwiches, so he took a seat on one of the stools at the counter. When she turned back around with his plate she said, “No shirt, no service.” Gunner smiled and started to get up. “I’ll get it.” She left him sitting there and went down the hallway to the bedroom. She came back with a white t-shirt that was about two sizes too big for him. He pulled it on while she got them each a soda out of the refrigerator and sat down.
“Can I ask you a question?” Gunner had so many questions about her on his mind, but there was one he just had to ask.
“What’s that?”
“Why do you do this?”
“This?”
“Yeah, take care of boneheads like me and cook and clean for a bunch of smelly bikers. You said it yourself, you’re not a club girl.”
She shrugged. “These guys are my family. I’m part of this club whether I wear a patch or not. This is my role.”
“Do you want to be a part of it?”
“If you mean is anyone forcing me, the answer is no. I lived with my mother most of my life. I came here to live with my father and my brother when I was fifteen, of my own free will. I love my dad. I love my family. It’s unorthodox, but they’re mine and I don’t have a problem taking care of them. What about you?”
“What about me? What?”
“Why are you here, Gunner? You’re not a biker.”
“Yet.”
She smiled. “Why do you want to be a biker?”
He took a bite of his sandwich and thought about how he wanted to answer that. Finally, he said, “I think that of all the people I’ve met in my life, I have yet to meet anyone as loyal as a member of an MC. They’re a family, but it’s more than that. They have each other’s backs no matter what. All I had to do was have Billy call Dax and all of this was set into motion, for me, and I’m not even a patched member.”
“What are you…to the Skulls?”
“I’m not sure yet. I think Dax and I had the same father, and I know whether that’s true or not I’d like to be a member of their club. When I was there, at the ranch where they live, I felt like I was home for the first time in my life.”
“You look like him.”
“Dax?”
“Yeah. It was the first thing I noticed when I met him. He seems fond of you.”
“I hope he is. I have so much respect for him. Did you know that he’s married to a lawyer?”
She raised an eyebrow and laughed. “That’s convenient. It would have saved this family a hell of a lot of money over the years if one of them had thought to do that.”
Gunner chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll bet. So, are you a nurse or…?”
“I graduated from the nursing program and passed my boards but finding a job is proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone in this county knows who I am and who my family is.”
“And you’d rather stay here with your family than move somewhere that they don’t know you?”
Lately, she wasn’t sure about that. She’d been thinking a lot about taking off on her own, but every time she came close she found herself making excuses to stay. Finally, she nodded. “I guess,” she said. “Something like that.”
“See what I mean about the loyalty? I want to be a part of that.”
She changed the subject by asking him, “You have a bike?”
“Yeah…well, kind of.” Gunner thought about the last time he saw his little bike, on its last leg in Toolie’s shop. “She kind of took a beating on my trip back east a couple weeks ago. I’m not sure she’s going to make it.”
Tamara smiled. “You want to see mine?”
“You have a bike?”
“Why shouldn’t I? Because I’m a girl?” Gunner put his palms up and popped the rest of his sandwich in his mouth before he got himself in trouble. Tamara narrowed her eyes at him and finished her own meal. When she was finished, she said, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Sadie.”
“Sadie?”
“Yes, she has a name. Shut up.” Gunner tried not to laugh as he followed her out to the
garage. She flipped on the light and he was looking at a blue tarp. “I don’t like her to get dusty.” Tamara went over and untied the tarp from a metal ring coming out of the floor and said, “Meet Sadie.”
“Oh wow.” The bike was a Dyna Super Glide. She was black with a blue wolf and sickle painted on the gas tank. The chrome on her wheels and exhaust was so shiny it was almost blinding. The sleek, black leather seat and the leather saddlebags were even shiny. Someone had clearly put a lot of time, work, and money into the bike. “She’s gorgeous.”
“I know,” Tamara said and grinned. “She’s my pride and joy.”
“Take me for a ride.”
“Excuse me? I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You know how to ride it, right?”
She looked indignant. “Of course I know how to ride it. I could ride circles around you, I bet.”
“Prove it. Take me for a ride.”
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“Oh, come on. I’ve been resting for over a week. I’m tired of resting. Take me for a ride, just a short one…please.”
He could tell she was considering it. He gave her the most pleading look he could muster, and she finally said, “Around the block.”
He grinned. “Around the block sounds amazing.”
“Go put some pants on…and your boots.” She was a bossy little thing, but Gunner didn’t mind. He went into the house and put on his jeans and boots. When he got back, she was in the little laundry room off the garage pulling on a pair of jeans of her own. She was wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit her like a glove. She grabbed a pair of black boots off the dryer and put those on and then donned a pair of black leather gloves. Gunner thought she was the hottest biker he’d ever seen. Once she was dressed, she pulled the bike out of the garage and tossed him a helmet. She was about to slip hers on when he asked:
“I need this for around the block?”
“You don’t want any more brain damage.”
